


You Must Know Life To See Decay

by geckoholic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-14
Updated: 2011-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>The thing about storms is that they leave behind damage and destruction.</em> - Future!fic, sort of. Spoilers for 6.11. And, uh, rather depressing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Must Know Life To See Decay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [painted_pain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/painted_pain/gifts).



> She prompted me with the quote "There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. But that will be the beginning." by Louis L'Amour. Which, by the way, was a gorgeous prompt. 
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful akintay. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "After The Storm" by Mumford & Sons.

They thought that, after the storm, after it's all over and every war is fought, there'd be peace.

But the thing about storms is that they leave behind damage and destruction.

At first, they try to settle down. It's Sam's idea, and Dean's reluctant, argues that he tried that and failed, but Sam kills his concerns with one simple argument: This time, they'll be together.

 _We'll be at home_ , he says.

They buy an old, small house, one floor, a garage and Bobby's name on the contract to avoid trouble, and they make it for a year.

But both of them have been through too much, seen and done too many things, for their lives to just become calm. Peace only gives them time to think, to feel, to remember, and makes the walls that they hid their pain behind tumble.

So they keep moving.

Another thing people say is that once the first domino has been knocked over you can't keep the rest from falling as well.

Sometimes, that's really all it takes. One crack in the surface.

It's Dean who breaks apart first. Probably because the barrier for Sam's pain had been installed by Death himself; a levee that still holds. And because Sam knows, for him, it's all or nothing. Wall or no wall. Sane or vegetable.

The nightmares never stopped, neither did the drinking, but Dean dealt. Had to. Until he can't anymore.

He hasn't been well in a long time. But slowly, gradually, he shifts from bad into worse.

He loses focus when they talk, sometimes trails off mid-sentence and just goes still. More and more often, Sam catches him staring into the distance with an empty thousand-yard-stare. He doesn't sleep badly anymore, haunted by memories as soon as he drifts off - he stops sleeping altogether. He loses his humor, his self-declared wit; he's weary and worn-out. But his silence is the worst of all of it.

Sam thinks it's like watching the color drain out of him. Like he's looking at an old, weathered photo of his brother rather than at the real thing.

For a while, Sam tries to talk to him, fix him somehow. Dean insists at first that no, he's fine, it's just a phase, it'll get better. And should he check if Sam's finally grown lady parts?

Then he doesn't even bother denying it anymore.

Ever since they were kids, for basically as long as he can remember, Sam hated few things as much as Dean's bravado. He used to think that Dean would go to his grave pretending everything's a-ok.

When the mask finally falls, Sam instantly misses that stupid act. He's so used to it that he doesn't even know how to deal with Dean when it's dropped. At some point, he would've been able to comfort Dean, make him better, repay the favor of Dean taking care of him all throughout their childhood. But that seems like a lifetime ago; any ability to cater to someone's emotional needs got drowned in anger while Dean was in hell. Back then, red-hot rage and revenge became his default reaction to anything that threatens Dean.

That didn't do them much good back then, and it doesn't now either.

One day in a diner over lunch, Dean goes still once again, and Sam loses it. He yells at him and demands a reaction, anything at all, for fuck's sake. With every word, he gets more and more frustrated, and he throws it all back at Dean.

 _Just say something_ , he screams, standing up and towering above Dean with his arms spread wide, all eyes in the room on him. _Do something. Don't just sit there. Answer me, yell back, tell me to cut it, get up and storm out if you have to, go for a drive. Be my brother!_

The only reaction he gets are tears rolling down Dean's face, and a look that's so broken, so confused and betrayed and so hurt that Sam ends up being the one storming out of the diner.

Dean whispers Sam's name then, just before he's out of earshot, and it sounds like a plea and an accusation and a prayer all rolled into one.

That's the last thing Sam ever hears Dean say.

When Sam picks Dean up at the diner an hour later, he hasn't moved much. He's still siting in the booth, looking out of the window, an almost untouched plate of food in front of him. Without resistance, he lets himself be manhandled out of the building and to the car, pliant and limp.

Sam heads straight to Bobby's. They set up a room for Dean, but it's not long until Bobby begins to mention things like 'hospital' and 'professional help'.

However incapable of taking care of Dean he might turn out to be, the idea of handing him over to a bunch of strangers and just coming over to visit every day chokes Sam up. For better or for worse, he's not going to leave his brother's side.

It's almost worse than when Dean was dead. There's a shell that looks like him, alive in the most basic sense, but nobody seems to be at home.

Finally, Sam thinks, he understands part of how Dean must've felt when Sam's body was walking topside while his soul was still stuck in the cage. Except that Dean's not ruthless and cold and calculating.

Dean isn't anything anymore.

There's not much of a decision to make, it's more like a logical consequence.

Late at night on a Sunday, roundabout six months after the diner, Sam writes a long letter to Bobby and leaves it on the kitchen table, on top of a thin folder with documents. Next to it, he lays the keys for the Impala and Dad's journal.

He goes upstairs, takes a shower and helps Dean do the same. Helps him dress and makes him settle on the bed.

Finally, Sam sits down next to him, takes his hand, and Dean looks up. But he's staring through him rather than at him.

And then Sam closes his eyes and starts scratching.


End file.
